Pools of Truth
I find myself searching the heavens for answers hidden among the stars, only glimpsing the vast and incomprehensible cosmos with its infinite scale and purpose, endless and indifferent. The heavens stretch far and wide, each star burning with purpose—not merely points of light, but spirits, each carrying a fragment of the One’s will. The brightest among the stars, the First Light, The One, shines with a power that eludes my grasp.
Danan. The Great Age. 3031.
squishing a mosquito in a splatter of blood. He swats at the blood sucking swarm, glaring at Lord Varesh in annoyance. “Damn these bloody things, don’t you have some spell for this?” He winces as he squeezes an oozing mosquito bite on his leg.
A pile of green leaves falls from behind him, landing on the small, crackling fire. A dense cloud of fragrant, herbal smoke rises, and as it does, the incessant buzzing stops, and the mosquitoes take fleeing flights.
Nubina comes to stand by the fire, her black form blending with the night and a bright smile illuminating her face. “Burn the leaves throughout the night.” Nubina passes them each a bunch of leaves. “Rub the leaves on your skin; they will help soothe the bites and keep the mosquitoes away.”
Nubina drags a small wild boar to the river’s edge. She squats and butchers the wild pig with trained precision.
Jain sits cross-legged, mesmerized, as she plies her craft.
Nubina reaches for her belt and frees large green plantain leaves, placing portions of the butchered meat onto the leaf plates. She wraps each piece of meat in the large leaves, walks to the fire, and places the meat parcels in the fire embers. She then lies down on her back beside the smoldering fire and gazes up at the stars. “I never get bored looking at the stars.” Her body glistens under the moonlight.
Jain’s wandering eyes linger on her lean muscles, lingering on her breasts and exposed thighs.
“You should be looking at the night sky; there is more beauty up there than anything on Avos.” Nubina remarks, ignoring Jain’s gawping stare.
“I doubt it.” Jain’s own words catch him by surprise.
“Back at the desert camp. How did you know my name?” Danan asks Nubina.
“Nubina and I share a connection,” Lord Varesh replies for her. “She is my guardian, my Elema.” He sits beside Jain, drenched in his own sweat; the humidity is near unbearable. Lord Varesh holds the Athanas Stone in his hand, his eyes drawn to the flames’ flickering reflection on the stone’s mysterious dark surface. “She’s also my daughter.”
“Daughter?” Danan frowns in puzzlement.
“Yes, not by blood, but as good as.”
Nubina glances at Danan. “Like the oracle, I foresee things before they happen. The bite of a snake, the coming of a person, or the flight path of an arrow. In my culture, only a wicked girl, cursed and tainted, can best a warrior in a fight or predict a game of chance. As my village strung me up to hang me for sorcery, all I could do was smile. Do you know why, Danan?”
Danan shakes his head.
“In that moment, a man the color of starlight, walked into my village and bought my freedom.” Nubina falls into contemplative silence. “Even with spears pointed at his face, he told me without words to have no fear.” She casts a loving glance at the mage. “In that moment, everything became clear, and our minds connected as one. No time or distance could separate us. Even across the oceans, we can communicate as one.”
“How?” Danan can’t hide his skepticism.
“Nubina possesses a rare talent, Danan.” The mage sits cross-legged, feeding the fire and stares up, searching the starry sky. “Some individuals inherit these abilities through generations, while others are chosen by destiny. The Elema, or guardians, have unique gifts, and in Nubina’s case, we can speak by sharing our thoughts without the use of words.” He gives a proud smile. “She can see some moments before they transpire and see people’s intent in colors.”
“We all see in color. Don’t we?” Danan looks perplexed.
“If black represents evil, what color symbolizes love?”
“White?” Danan rubs the fire’s smoke from his confused eyes.
“Correct. To be precise, it is pure starlight—the purest of all lights—followed closely by moonlight.” The mage casts a glance at Jain, who pretends to ignore him.
“Nubina is of the Elema, a guardian of the Elim Magi. We Elim Magi bleed like all men, Danan, and the Elema protect us. There are now few alive with these natural gifts.”
“Let me guess, you popped the villagers into clouds of blood and dust?” Jain waves his arms in childish, mock-magical grandeur.
“We do not slaughter the ignorant, Jain,” Lord Varesh says, giving Nubina a warm smile. “Nubina is gifted, but in her culture, these gifts are witchcraft. I bought her freedom with good old-fashioned gold.” He laughs to himself. “In those days, I embarked on expeditions in Avos, searching for ancient relics from the Elim’s distant past. My quest drew me to the Nubina's village, and my search for the Elda Staff failed; instead, I returned home with my daughter.”
“What? You came to Thiel?” Jain sits up straight, staring down at Nubina.
“Yes, for eleven great cycles I lived in Thiel, although the lords and ladies showed little regard for a savage black girl.”
“Fools,” Lord Varesh scoffs, “they think only with their purse strings and care little for what they do not know.”
“Thielian society does not suit me, Lord Jain of House Adair. I honed my gifts in the safety of my father’s home, and as I grew older, I understood my place in the world. It is here where I belong.” Nubina gestures with wide arms toward the jungle, then sniffs the air, bounding to her feet. “I’m going to bathe. I will eat once I’m clean.” She plants a kiss on her father’s cheek. “There’s a nearby waterfall with pools for bathing.”
“Guess I could freshen up,” Jain sniffs himself with a grimace.
“I am content with nature’s stench.” The mage prods at the fire’s embers with a stick. “I’ll tend to the fire with Danan.”
Nubina slinks away from the firelight and into the night. “Keep up, and stay close, moon-flesh.” She says, over her shoulder to Jain.
Jain follows Nubina, chasing her shadow as she darts ahead. He trips over a fallen tree and face-plants into the undergrowth, then scurries to his feet and chases ahead. An eerie silence surrounds him as he comes to a stop.
“I can smell you upwind.” The voice comes a hairs breadth from his face.
“The One, damn it.” Jain startles, “creeping up on a gentleman can give him a heart attack.”
“Gentleman? That’s not what I’ve seen.” Nubina glides away, swallowed by the night.
“Bloody mage-touched,” Jain mutters, tripping on another tree root. He scurries ahead through the thick brush until his ears prick at the sound of falling water. Then he glimpses a moonlit waterfall cascading in the dark night. He comes to a standstill on the hilltop. “The One, bless me.”
Torrents of moonlit water cascade down onto glassy pools, reflecting the starry night. As if stepping into a dreamland, Jain gazes into the pool before him and sees his own reflection swathed in moonlight. He catches his breath as he stares at his pale moonlit reflection.
“I told you, moon-flesh.” A heavy shove in the back from Nubina sends Jain flailing headfirst into the moonlit pool. There, beneath the surface, he floats in an ethereal world, outside of time, where shards of magical moonlight cut through the waters. He grins with a boyish smile and swims to the surface.
Nubina stands on the pool bank like a flawlessly sculpted, polished black stone pillar, naked as the stars, haloed by the moonlight, and created by the finest potter. She unties the knot at the back of her braided hair, folds her clothes, and places them in a neat pile on a boulder. “Put your tongue away.” She takes flight and dives over Jain’s head into the deep crystalline pool.
Jain plunges beneath the surface and watches Nubina shoot like a black arrow through the shimmering water.
Nubina hangs weightless in the pool, she turns back to look at him with a broad grin. She then kicks her legs and swims underwater to the waterfall. She clings to the pool’s stone bed, beneath the thunderous, churning swell.
Jain follows, skirting the pool bed and entering the heavy churn. Breathless, he emerges from beneath the surface behind the waterfall.
Nubina's hand reaches down and effortlessly pulls him onto a cavern ledge. She then strolls, on swaying hips, deeper into the dark cavern.
Jain follows, his steps navigating upwards, climbing the slippery steps through the gloomy cave. His eyes focused on Nubina’s rear as it swings from side to side.
Nubina glances over her shoulder and winks at him, before darting ahead into the darkness.
Jain sprints to catch up, slipping and hopping up the slick rock steps. At the top of the cavern, he finds Nubina standing on a narrow ledge at the edge of the waterfall. Her body shines like the finest onyx, glimmering in the moonlight.
“What are you gawping at?” Nubina sticks out her tongue. “If you want it, come and get it.” She blows him a parting kiss and dives headfirst into the deep pool far below with a gentle splash.
“The One, save me.” Jain jumps from the cliff with the grace of a stray cannonball, tumbling like a one-winged bird until his arse smacks into the water with a slapping thwack.
“That’s got to hurt.” Nubina says laughing, as she perches on the pool’s edge. She kicks water into Jain’s face with a laugh.
“It really does,” Jain winces as he puts a hand to his bruising buttocks.
“You can’t bathe in your clothes.” Nubina perches on the pool’s edge, her feet in the water and wrings water from her hair.
Jain’s boots and breeches slap onto the rock beside her, then his shirt, then his undergarments.
“There,” he says with a smug smile. His white, pasty body shines beneath the clear waters, as bright and bold as the Great Moon above them.
“There you are 'moon-flesh'. I told you.” Nubina sits cross-legged on the boulder, unabashed, observing Jain as he swims.
Jain frowns skeptically and questions, ‘Surely, you cannot truly see into the future?”
“Just the important things.” Nubina cups water into her hands and drips it over her arms. She reaches for a small rounded volcanic stone and starts massaging it over her skin. “I have questions for you, Jain Adair.” She stares down at him, uncompromising.
“Such as?” Jain swims away on his back, playfully splashing in the water.
“Why don’t you embrace your gifts?” Nubina asks, her voice filled with curiosity.
Jain stops swimming and treads water, his tone filled with self-deprecation. “The only gift I have is making a mess of my life; surely you have foreseen that.”
“Yes, I saw you waste your life.” Nubina nods, her gaze fixed on the pristine night sky. “I watched you in the fighting pit.”
“You saw?” Jain is gob smacked; his disbelief clear.
“I sat beside my father and watched you fight to the death.” Nubina’s eyes reflect a mixture of admiration and intrigue. “In that moment, I knew there was another like me. The way you moved, the anticipation of every blow, the split-second decisions to take or spare some men’s lives. Why?”
“Because not all men deserve to die. Some, like me, fought for their innocence.” Jain’s gaze locks with Nubina’s.
“How did you choose who should live and who should die?” Nubina’s question lingers in the air.
“I just knew,” Jain shrugs, a sense of certainty in his voice.
“I saw your cursed eyes, black as the deepest night.” Nubina’s tone is laced with disappointment. “You’re a drophead.”
“I was a drophead,” Jain corrects her.
“Why?” Nubina presses, sensing his evasion.
Jain stammers, whispering lies under his breath, attempting to conceal his truth.
“If you choose to lie to yourself, that is up to you, but do not lie to me.” Nubina’s voice cuts through Jain’s muttering lies, silencing them, dead.
“The drops helped me.” Jain swims to the pool’s edge and rests his arms on the boulder. “With the drops, there is only a world in black and white. No blasted colors or rainbows of bright light.”
“There, telling the truth isn’t that hard, is it?” Nubina peers up at the Great Moon in the starry sky.
“The One save me. You are just bloody like him, albeit much better looking,” Jain scoffs, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
“Ah, such a charmer. Those poor whores are pining for you,” Nubina teases, smirking sarcastically. “Or they just miss your coin.”
“The whores helped me sleep.” Jain splashes the water in agitation. “Sure, we, you know—”
“Yes, Jain, I know,” Nubina interrupts.
“But mostly they help me sleep,” Jain admits, his vulnerability surfacing.
“Why?” Nubina fixes Jain with a rigid stare, her eyes searching for the truth.
“The bloody voices—that’s why. They never shut up. Even while killing, the dead speak to me.” Jain slumps under the weight of his past burdens. “I cannot sleep unless I am wasted or wrapped in a woman’s warmth. That’s why.”
“Father helped me to control the voices,” Nubina nods, recalls her own journey. “He taught me that the whispers are calls to action, opportunities to make things right. Once you accept them, there is no noise, only peace.”
Jain falls into a contemplative silence, grappling with his inner thoughts.
“Do you like killing?” Nubina’s penetrating eyes meet his.
“Yes and no.” Jain breaks eye contact. “If it is for protection or justice, then yes. If it is for sport, then no.”
“Me too,” she nods, acknowledging their shared complexity.
“Really?” Jain’s jaw drops momentarily before he regains his composure.
“Sure, the thrill of the dance. The world flowing in slow motion, with subtle movements. The final killing blow,” Nubina’s words tinge with excitement.
“Me too,” Jain admits, his fingers brushing against the boulder, and then accidentally, his hand lands on Nubina’s thigh. She does not recoil; instead, she clasps his hand, allowing it to rest on her leg.
Jain’s fingertips dance over her glistening black skin as his contemplative eyes trace the beads of water flowing down her legs, dripping off her toes and back into the crystalline pool.
“Why do you drink?” Nubina runs her long fingers through his hair, urging him to open up.
“Because I cannot stand the world,” Jain says, resting his head on her leg as her massaging fingers comb away his fading doubts. “When I drink, nothing matters, and I become part of the chaos.”
“Why do you lie to yourself?” Nubina’s question cuts to the core of Jain’s internal struggle.
Jain’s mind wanders back to his former life, memories of his wife tearing at her own skin, losing their unborn child, and the subsequent downward spiral. He relives the night he slaughtered a man over a game of cards, and then the moments in the fighting pits, clinging to threads of life through his addiction to drops. Tears stream down his face as he hides his shame from Nubina.
“Why?” Her soft hands soothingly rub his back, traversing his countless scars and healed wounds.
At her touch, Jain’s will shatters, and he succumbs to his emotions. “Because I am afraid,” he confesses, nuzzling into her thigh, his breath shuddering with each sob. “Afraid of what I am, the voices, the bright colors, and the world in slow motion.” He meets Nubina’s gaze, “I am sick, Nubina. I am broken.”
Nubina leans forward, planting a loving kiss on his forehead. She lifts his chin, locking her eyes with his.
“No, Jain. You are the greatest of the Elema. You are the guardian of light.”